Page 5 of Brick Wall

Sebastian

I walk off the stage, where two personnel are waiting to escort me to a golf cart at the back of the auditorium so I can safely exit.

I’m not too worried about problems here, but I adhere to their protocol anyway and jump on the golf cart to get across campus.

Overall, the speech went well, but there was one thing I wasn’t expecting.

Her.

Apparently, I can spot this woman in a room full of people.

I know it was her—the woman from the bar that I met…twice.

She was leaning against the back wall with the rest of the staff and coaches in a sea of athletic polos. She must be a coach, perhaps? If true, I didn’t know that about her, but I guess I never asked either.

Damn. I’ve been a dick to her .

She catches me so off guard.

I went to the bar that night to look out for Bryce. I never even considered that I’d converse with someone else. It was going to be a quick in and out—one drink max.

But then she made me laugh, and I couldn’t help myself. I needed more.

I didn’t mean to, but I let my guard down around her that night. It just happened. She was so easy and fun to talk to.

It was nice to be me. I didn’t have to worry about someone using me or being with me because I’m a professional athlete. I didn’t have to worry about someone bragging about it on social media or sharing a tantalizing piece about me to media outlets.

It was na?ve of me to think that, of course. I should know better than to lower my shield, especially at a bar.

But no story made it to the media.

That little voice in my head reminds me that nothing bad actually happened, yet.

I’m not sure what to make of this whole thing.

I was so thrown off when I realized she knew who I was the whole time. I thought I was just a guy in a bar talking to a beautiful woman.

I wish that was the case.

I probably shouldn’t have been a jerk to her, though. It’s not her fault that she knew who I was. She is from Boston, after all.

The last thing I want is to be rejected yet again by you.

Fuck. Those words have been echoing in my ears since she spoke them.

The last thing I want to do is make her feel rejected by me, especially since that wasn’t my intention. It didn’t occur to me that she’d consider that a rejection anyway.

She was so smart and confident at the bar.

I haven’t had that easy of a conversation with a woman in a long time, maybe ever.

And then I ruined it, of course.

I jumped to conclusions without getting the facts.

The fact is, my best friend and teammate, Calvin, was sitting next to me and overheard our entire conversation. He had the biggest laugh, at my expense, naturally.

Eventually, after he stopped laughing and quoting her, he agreed with everything the practical stranger said to me. Some best friend he is.

Since Cal was annoying at the bar, I went over to Bryce and Goldie’s table and introduced myself. I apologized to Goldie for not doing so earlier, and we got to know each other better.

Goldie was, in fact, great.

She’s not my type at all. She’s too cute and petite for my personal tastes.

She’s probably a foot and a half shorter than me, and although there’s nothing wrong with being small, I’m a big guy.

I don’t want to worry about crushing someone, especially in the bedroom. I tend to prefer tall and sturdy women.

I can see why Bryce was instantly taken with Goldie, though. She’s warm and bubbly and treats everyone like a long-lost friend.

Bryce and Goldie make a good pair, and I let my own bias bring me down. Goldie is nothing like I thought she would be.

Alexa was right. Damn, I need to figure out her real name.

I hop out of the golf cart and gesture to the attendant that I’ve got it from here. I didn’t attend college at CHU, but I’ve been here a few times to know where I’m going. An old buddy of mine works in the athletic center, and I want to pay him a quick visit while I’m on campus.

I walk down a long, quiet hallway that primarily has offices until I reach the end of the hallway and knock on the door.

Adam, the Associate Athletic Director at Chestnut Hill University, greets me.

“You busy?” I question as he engulfs me in a half handshake, half hug.

“I’ve got a minute for you,” Adam states. “Sorry, I had to jet during your speech. How did the rest of it go? Did you get eaten alive by those student questions?” he says with a huge grin.

“A few. I had to cut it short but answered most of them.”

“No worries. Thank you so much for doing this. Our volleyball coach put in a request after hearing about your nonprofit and all your good work. Guess she was sick of our usual lineup.”

There’s a light knock on the open door behind me.

“Hey, speak of the devil,” Adam says. “Seb, this is our head volleyball coach, Annie Moore. Annie, have you met Sebastian yet?”

I turn around, and there she is, the woman I met at the bar—twice.

Annie. It suits her.

She’s tall and fit, but still a few inches shorter than me. She’s wearing a navy polo and khakis with a clipboard in her hands.

She stops in her tracks with a deer-in-the headlights look on her face, clearly caught off guard seeing me in her boss’s office.

I stifle a laugh and help her out .

“I believe our friends are dating, but I don’t think we’ve officially met. Sebastian,” I say while holding out a hand for her to shake.

“Annie,” she says, moving her clipboard to her other hand and placing her new free hand cautiously out to return my formal gesture.

“Sorry to interrupt. Are we still planning to meet?” she asks Adam.

I wave my hand up to Adam, telling him I’ll see him later, although he’s also apologizing and rescheduling with Annie as I step out.

I linger in the hallway for a few minutes until I see her exit Adam’s office.

“Hey,” I greet before she disappears in the opposite direction.

“Hi,” she returns warily.

“So, I think I may have jumped to conclusions, and I guess I shouldn’t have done that.” I rub the back of my neck, a nervous habit of mine.

“Probably not.”

“Yeah.” I stand there awkwardly. “I can sometimes come across the wrong way, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or your friend.” I’m happy that I ran into her so I can clear the air.

She blinks. “Are you apologizing to me?”

“Yes. I’d like to start over, if possible.”

She’s silent for a moment, and I’m about to add more, but then I hear in a slight whisper, “You were such a dick to me.”

“I know,” I say in a soft tone, matching hers. I also can’t help but add, “I am a good dick, though.”

“Sounds like you’ve said that a few times before,” she retorts in a more confident manner .

“A few,” I admit. My last name is Goodick, after all. “It’s my go-to when I’m a big dick.”

She breaks out in a light laugh, and I’m not sure if she quite forgave me yet, but I don’t think she hates me as much anymore, so I take the small win.